


It Happens Sometimes, Okay?

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, BAMF Stiles, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bottom Derek Hale, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Fail-emissary Stiles, Fight Scene, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Senses, fight scene-violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't usually wind up battling rival packs of werewolves with Derek and the rest.</p><p>But this, as with everything, is an exception.</p><p>Good thing he has his trusty emissary training and his bat, right?</p><p>Right.</p><p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Happens Sometimes, Okay?

Stiles was running. He didn’t really have a choice. Staying and fighting would have been worse than useless, not with three alphas on his tail. Even his bat could only connect with one of them at a time. As blunt weapons go, it was pretty thorough, but even still, it had its limits.

He chanced a glance backwards as he sprinted over the uneven ground. He hoped that Derek had seen the three split off and make for the emissary-in-training, who was perched up in a nearby oak to watch the battle, and provide assistance as necessary.

In this case, ‘assistance’ was a compound bow that shot wolfsbane-infused arrows. Really a useful weapon from the distance he had been at, but as soon as he had loosed his first arrow, and it whistled towards the fray, he knew it was a mistake.

The sound of it drew perked ears from the pack of alphas as it buried itself in one of the females’ shoulders, and the snarls that accompanied her howl of pain signaled that it was time for him to go. Well, that and the growling command of the pack’s leader.

So Stiles grabbed his bat and slung it across his back and shimmied down the tree deftly, pushing off a few feet above the ground and landing in a half-crouch. He looked back to see three fully wolfed-out alphas break through the foliage, snapping and growling. He had taken off without another thought, completely forgetting that he had left his bow in his perch.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to outpace them for long, even with his training aiding his gait. Finally, after clearing a large log and tumbling slightly haphazardly as he landed, he heard a familiar, raw-throated howl.

Derek. As pumped up on adrenaline as he was, he knew at least that his alpha had his trail. He had become very good at deciphering the subvocal methods werewolves used to communicate, especially in battle.

To the untrained ear, it was mostly just a collection of howls, short, clipped barks, growling, and the occasional snarl. But each sound had meaning. Each one could have enough compressed information wrapped up in it to tell a pack where prey was, how large it might be, what it smelled like, and where it’s trail started. And that was what Stiles was. Prey.

But Stiles was used to that. The way the alphas behind him snarled almost gleefully, he knew that they didn’t see him as more than a young hunter, easy prey, for most. But Stiles had a few tricks up his own sleeve. But wasn’t the time for that. So he kept running, surprisingly calm as he crashed through the underbrush, flannel shirt catching on branches as he sprinted.

That was when he heard a different howl, coming from in front of him. He didn’t recognize it. He felt the cold, sudden grip of panic settle in.

Shit, they have me surrounded. He ducked left, back towards the melee he was currently missing, hoping to somehow get a flanking leg up on his pursuers with his sudden change in direction. Of course it was no use. Goddamn werewolves and their goddamn supernatural hearing and smell. They almost knew what he was doing as he was doing it.

That was when one behind him barked a command only intended for the wolf he had heard a few seconds ago. He knew they would be on him soon, and then he would be on his own. As if to confirm this, a sharp, quick confirming sound came from ahead of him. Damn wolf managed to get ahead of him. Behind him, the alphas fanned out. He could hear one off to his side, and two more off his back matching pace as they hemmed him in.

Fuck.

Stiles vaulted off of a rather large boulder and landed in a small clearing. He knew he wasn’t very far from the battle. He could hear the muffled snarls of Isaac and Scott, and the low, throaty rumble of the wonder-twins. Scattered throughout the cacophony were the short grunts and yells of Allison and Lydia, who sounded like they were beating the ever-living-shit out of something. Good for them.

Derek howled. He was closer now. Stiles got the message. Hold somewhere. Hide. I’m right behind you.

Damn alpha still had no faith in him. Mate or not. So Stiles skidded to a stop, and made a fist, crushing the small wooden cannister he had lashed to his wrist when he was preparing for the fight. He felt the satisfying explosion of fine powder as he closed his eyes.

You have to mean it.

Stiles lifted his eyelids as the first of the alphas slid through the bush. It was the half-breed, the angry, monstrous type of lycan that Peter resembled. Neither wolf nor human, it had the characteristics of both, if only slightly. A massive, mottled grey wolf stood on two bent legs, long forepaws bracing the massive creature as stalked through the bushes and growled menacingly. That was enough for Stiles. He shot his palm above his head in one fluid motion, and unclenched his fist, staring the corrupted wolf down as he made to release the shielding powder.

Then the other alphas that had been on his heels crashed through the brush and one of them chose that moment to roar. It was enough to catch him off-guard, breaking his focus on the werewolf in front of him. He flinched reflexively at the sound, and his power flickered. The fine black powder that would have saved him puffed up and scattered uselessly all over him and the ground. He still wasn’t good enough to keep his focus when he cast the circle in the heat of battle. Deaton had warned him about this.

Shit. Now was definitely not the time for this.

Stiles stood there for one full second as the alphas blinked at the failed casting. He really hated it when this happened. He caught the slight twitching of muscles as the wolves around him lowered their heads and snarled mockingly at him. The half-breed was still in front of him, barring his massive teeth, and the three other humanoid wolves were crouched around him, their features cast in deep shadow by the moon.

The low growls they quickly made only meant one thing. Attack.

Stiles quietly, quickly, drew his knuckles tighter, and pushed out a breath, allowing his eyes to slide closed as the werewolves prepared to pounce on him and adjusted his stance, shifting his right leg back slightly. Then several things happened at once.

Stiles opened his eyes, unfocused, staring at the space around the wolf in front of him, who had left the ground and was now essentially flying to meet him with a disturbingly large maw of serrated teeth. Behind him, he could hear the others rushing toward him as well, drawing back extended claws before they tore into his flesh. Someone really needed to teach werewolves not to telegraph their attacks so much.

Stiles opened his mouth, and drew his clenched fist up to his ear, elbow high above his head, and let out a raw-throated yell. His focus sharpened as time seemed to slow around him. He slammed his fist downward with the full force of his body behind it, planting his back knee solidly in the dirt. As his knuckles connected with the ground, he crouched, and his nerves registered the flat, bone-tingling pain that accompanied the impact as a ripple quickly flipped the air around him, a small shockwave coursing outward from his fist across the ground as the Mountain Ash powder collected into a thin ring around him.

Stiles looked up in time to see the massive lycan in front of him slam into the barrier, stopped dead in his tracks by the magical shield. The impact made a dull thud in his ears, resonating through the barrier with intensity as the other alphas connected with it at the same time.

In slow motion, they paused, rippling against the boundary, light flickering around the points of contact as they sank into it in slow motion, and as quickly as they had impacted, were launched backwards on the same trajectories they had traveled before.

Stiles allowed himself a small smirk as he stood up and reached behind his head for the handle of his bat. His focus finally began wearing off as time and sound returned to normal. He plucked the wooden essentially-club from its holster quickly, flourishing it next to him as the alphas began to pick themselves up from the leafy ground into which they had skidded so unceremoniously. Stiles shifted his weight back and forth on his feet a few times, preparing himself to cross the boundary, aiming for the corrupted wolf in front of him.

Just then, Derek crashed through the edge of the clearing, drawing a snarl from one of the humanoids, who was quickest to get back to his feet.

Right on time, Stiles thought, as he braced a foot on the edge of the boundary and lunged, hands white-knuckling the handle of the bat as he swung it over his head, aiming to make a clean, solid contact with the big lycan’s head in front of him. His focus returned for an instant as he brought the weapon down and landed, a satisfying crack resounding through his forearms as it struck the fragile, bony ridge of the werewolf’s head, just forward of his left ear. He resisted the urge to pull back, and let the solid wooden weight of the bat pull his arms through the motion, swinging almost full-circle before Stiles finally braked the movement.

The impact slammed the once big bad wolf into the dirt, his front paws collapsing under the sudden, extreme force. A quick, highly undignified whimper escaped his muzzle as it happened. Stiles moved quickly, not giving the alpha time to heal, and swung his leg over its hairy neck, straddling it. He dropped the bat. He reached a hand underneath the lycan’s snout, grunting at the dead weight of it. He pulled a sharp knife from the sheath in his boot, and growled as he shoved it home into the side of its neck, and pulled it across, thick, hot blood splattering across his shoes.

He looked up to see that Derek had entangled himself with the quick alpha who had gotten up first, and the second, a big, humanoid male that reminded Stiles of Ennis. The third was preparing to enter the brawl, palms splayed at her sides, claws extended. Stiles leapt up, quickly yanking the knife from the corpse’s neck underneath him and collecting his bat. He stood, his hands tight around his weapons, slick with blood that was impressively not his own.

He turned towards the unfair fight, and knew he would regret it before the words left his lips.

"Hey assholes, forgetting something?" He waggled his bat as two pairs of red, angry eyes quickly turned towards him, teeth barred, claws extended. It was the female and the larger male. Humanoid wolves, both of them. Stiles had known both their emissaries when they were kids. He felt a twinge of anger as they snarled at him, crouching into attack positions as Derek struggled with the other alpha.

"Yeah, I thought so. Come on, I don’t have all night." He shifted his weight, and braced against his back leg, slipping his knife into the pocket of his jeans. He would have need of it again soon.

They charged.

Stupid werewolves, he thought as he brought the bat up with one arm and palmed his free hand against the wood. He stilled his mind, and focused on the pair. There would be no breaking it this time. He felt tendrils of power snap out from the small, dark part of his mind to his nerves, sparking across synapses with the muted power of lightning. He felt the white-hot power well up behind his eyes, and flow through his hands into his chosen weapon.

Just before they reached him, the smaller, quick female seemed to realize what was happening and tried to stop, skidding on padded feet in the dirt and crouched to brace herself, not even trying to outrun it. The male wasn’t so lucky. He brought an open claw down, connecting with the invisible force between him and Stiles. The human saw the pain in his eyes as he released the energy amassing, shockwave expanding outwards and tossing his body back, slamming it brokenly into a tree with a sickening thud.

He summoned the remainder of his stored energy, and threw it all into his focus, halting time almost instantly. His feet arched against the ground and he sprinted towards Derek, hoping desperately to cover the ground before the shockwave reached him. Even with all his energy, he didn’t know if he would make it in time.

Stiles reached out, straining his muscles as he grasped for any part of Derek. Behind him, the rumble of the energy he released deepened, and Stiles heard it make contact with the female alpha.

He felt the cold fire of it prick at his back as his hand made satisfying contact with his alpha, ripping him out of the grip of the other one and slamming him face-first into the ground. Stiles landed on top of him and crouched over his head as he felt the shockwave begin to press lightly against him. He felt his focus wane as the force became stronger. Stiles locked down his arms over Derek, trying to create as small of a profile as possible. He tucked his head into Derek’s neck and locked his eyelids down as the unstoppable force washed over him. His focus broke.

And then all Stiles felt was pain. Then an all-consuming flash that penetrated his closed eyes and bored into his brain. And then nothingness.

—

When he came to, he was still on top of Derek, crouched where they had fallen. Around them, the clearing looked like it had been hit by a bomb. All the leaves had been kicked up and away from the point where Stiles had released the energy, and the dirt was streaked outward towards the fallen trees that had once bracketed the small break in the forest. Of the alphas that had pursued Stiles, including the body of the one he killed, there was no sign. In the distance, he heard a familiar victorious howl from Scott, who was joined quickly by Isaac.

Stiles sat up slowly, letting out a breath. As if on cue, pain flared up and he gasped as he straightened his back. Literally everything hurt. Beneath him, Derek groaned, and Stiles breathed a small sigh of relief as he rolled ungracefully off of the werewolf, collapsing in a gangly pile of human next to him. He swore he broke every bone in his body. He wished for a moment for Derek’s healing. He could see the bruises and slashes already shrinking on his skin as it knotted together. Stiles inhaled deeply, more out of relief than anything. He was surprised when the action stabbed him with a sharp pain in his side and yelped inadvertently. He probably broke a rib or two taking Derek down. Lovely.

Next to him, Derek began to slowly push himself up from the ground. He sat back onto his knees, a snarl across his features as his wounds healed.

"What happened?" Derek hoarsely asked, eyeing the smoking remnants of the clearing with surprised green eyes. The flecks of gold within them seemed to glow in dusty moonlight.

Stiles breathed shallowly from the ground, wondering how he could say anything without his sure-to-be-broken rib stabbing into his lung.

"Oh, you know, just saving your ass." Sarcasm, for Stiles, was a perpetual state of being. "For like the tenth time."

"Ninth." Derek was breathing heavily, trying to slow it by sheer force of will.

"Tenth, Sourwolf. That business with the vampires totally counts," Stiles chided. Derek rocked back onto his feet and stood up, stretching and arching his back, breaking in the newly-healed muscles. Stiles really hated him sometimes.

“A little help?” Stiles looked expectantly at the standing werewolf.

Derek looked down at him, the briefest pain cutting across his face. In a smooth, slow movement, he reached down and scooped Stiles into his arms gingerly, his grip slackening as Stiles winced.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I think just a broken rib or two. Not really warranting a carry.”

“Are you complaining?” Derek’s eyebrows asked the question. Stiles wasn’t.

“Thank you, by the way.” It was Stiles’ turn to have the ‘surprised eyebrow’ face at his mate.

“Does that come with a side of understanding that I can hold my own in a fight?” Stiles was being deliberately obstinate.

Derek sighed and looked away from him. “Yes… Fine.” Stiles smiled, and let his head rest against Derek’s shoulder. “But next time you do that,” Stiles perked up, “give me some kind of warning.”

“I did,” Stiles protested, “That part where I tackled you.” Derek made a sound that Stiles interpreted as laughter.

“Oh, by the way. I saw you fail with your first casting of the Mountain Ash.” Derek smiled slightly, and Stiles glared at him.

“It happens sometimes, okay? I got startled. The stupid alphas broke my focus. And, oh, right. Uh, hello, I fixed it.“ Stiles coughed. His side was beginning to get sore. He cringed with each step as Derek trudged through the woods towards the rest of the pack.

“So you are going to be out of commission for a while, I take it?” Derek eyed him with what Stiles understood as playfulness. He responded in kind, despite the pain he was in.

“Oh no. We are doing it as soon as we get back to the loft. We almost died tonight. We need to celebrate.”

“I don’t think that fucking after we almost died is a thing,” Derek intoned almost jokingly. Stiles just chuckled.

“Please, it is totally a thing. And because I saved your ass tonight, you’re bottoming.” He gave Derek a supposedly seductive waggle of his eyebrows and patted his face with a shit-eating smile. Derek just growled lightly and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, shut up. You can’t even complain.”

“True,” Derek acquiesced with a slight nod. “But then again, you are a better mate than an emissary.” Stiles glared at him as he placed a small, gentle kiss on the human’s forehead.

“Oh, bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me.” 

Stiles cracked a smile, in spite of himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry guys, I did a thing based on this post here (http://effinlemon.tumblr.com/post/59060610886/banryeo-sublimeglass-littlecofiegirl). It was too cool of an idea to pass up. I keep trying to stop ruining peoples’ artwork, but I can’t help it. And this was perfect. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and don't forget to check out my blog: watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com!
> 
> Much love,
> 
> -Stiles Kolpath


End file.
